Page 99 of The Hotel Nantucket
“Is the black because you’re in mourning?” Sharon asks. “I hear the hotel is being sold.”
“I’m optimistic that whoever buys it will keep it the way it is so we’ll all have our jobs next summer.”
“Hmmm,” Sharon says. “Not to be Gertie Gloom, but I heard there was a buyer already who wants to turn it into a corporate headquarters.”
Lizbet purses her lips. “Sharon,” she chides, “you know better than to spread rumors.”
“I have a good source.”
“Well, then, I suppose I’ll be moving to LA,” Lizbet says.
Sharon is rendered temporarily speechless. Nobody on this island wants to see Lizbet move away.
“What happened to your night manager?” Sharon asks. “I heard the FBI arrested him.”
Lizbet smiles without showing any teeth. Sharon isn’t without self-awareness; she knows she’s pushing it with this question.
“Richie is a very sweet man,” Lizbet says. “However, Love Robbins will be on the night desk until we close.”
Sharon reaches out a hand. “We’re all wishing you well, sweetie pie.”
And it’s true, we all are. It’s one of the few things we can agree on. After watching the unlikely blossoming of the Hotel Nantucket over the summer, we want to see it succeed.
But we have to admit, it’s not looking good.
27. Long Shot
At eight o’clock Monday night, there’s a knock on the front door. Chad is up in his room playing Madden NFL, though he’s supposed to be getting a head start on his packing. His job at the Brandywine Group starts the Tuesday after Labor Day.
After his drinks date with Ms. English the previous Wednesday, Chad marched into his house and invited his mother, father, and Leith into the formal living room. They complied, probably only because it was such an unusual request; theyneverused the formal living room.
Chad had some things he wanted to say.
“First of all, I’d like to apologize. I’m to blame for Paddy losing an eye, for Lulu’s death, and for all of the damage done to our house.”
“Chaddy,” his mother said. “I thought we agreed to move on.”
Chad ignores this predictable response. “I got a job at the Hotel Nantucket because I wanted a summer of honest work. I didn’t want to teach little kids to chip and putt, I wanted to do something difficult—unpleasant, even.” Chad paused. “I didn’t take the job to make you proud of me, I did it for myself. But even so, I’m surprised that you don’t seem to find my decision laudable.”
“You’re using some good SAT words there, bruh,” Leith says.
“You seemed embarrassed that I was cleaning rooms,” Chad said to his parents. “You never refer to my job, never talk about it, never ask how my day was.”
“It isn’t what Mom and I wanted for you,” Paul Winslow said. “We wanted you to be able to recharge your batteries before coming to join me at the firm.”
“About that,” Chad said. “I won’t be joining you at the firm.”
Chad’s mother shrieked as though she’d seen a rat hiding beneath her prized Edra sofa.
Leith said, “This is getting good.”
“I like working at the hotel,” Chad said. “I want to stay in hospitality, maybe go back to school and get into a management program.”
Paul kept his cool because keeping his cool was his job. “Our administrative assistants make over two hundred thousand dollars a year,” he said. “Which is more than double what you’ll be making as a manager at the Holiday Inn.”
“I don’t care about money,” Chad said.
“That’s easy for you to say. You’ve always had it. You don’t know the first thing about being poor or even middle class, Chadwick. You’ve never had to pay for a single thing in all your life.”
